“Did you see it?” he asked, in a low voice, but one full of suppressed excitement.
“See what, Harry?”
“The scalp Long Knife carried. I’m sure it was a fresh one, too!”
“A fresh scalp! Oh, Harry, are you sure?”
“Yes, and the best thing we can do is to get back to the train without delay.”
“But the Indians have gone up the brook——”
“We’ll have to take to the forest and trust to luck.”
“Supposing they have attacked the train? That scalp may be that of one of our party!”
“Let us trust not,” answered Harry, but with a face that showed his anxiety.
The youths had been following the course of the brook, which was lined on one bank with a series of large flat rocks. On these rocks their trail had been lost, so that the Indians had not discovered their footprints in the semi-gloom caused by the heavy forest growth overhead.